Michel Bettane contemplates the challenges facing the region’s wine industry.
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The small community surrounding Bordeaux’s wine trade, while navigating the difficult situation of France’s economy, still has not fully acknowledged how significant its wines have fallen out of favor—a phenomenon often referred to as “Bordeaux bashing.”
The 2023 en primeur initiative has turned out to be quite disappointing, even with substantial price reductions for wines that were already reasonably priced compared to their Burgundy counterparts, which typically command a higher price. Besides, the quality is on par with the best ever offered during en primeur. Given the limited quantities available for sale, stronger results were anticipated; however, interest in Bordeaux has waned significantly—both domestically and internationally. Sommeliers are choosing not to serve Bordeaux, retailers are refraining from purchasing it, and enthusiasts are largely skipping it, compounded by the influence of equally disillusioned wine critics.
For instance, last June, I visited a charming establishment that served as a restaurant, wine bar, and wine cellar all at once. It was filled with numerous authentic crates of renowned Bordeaux wines displayed as part of the decor. These were not merely decorative replicas; they were original crates. The wines they held came from various places, including Italy and Spain, but not from Bordeaux itself. The lone Bordeaux offered (in Burgundy, mind you) was an unremarkable bottle that could only boast about its drinkability—a glou-glou quality that’s currently in vogue, though it hardly suited Bordeaux’s esteemed reputation. The caviste grinned when I remarked on his choice of decor, as if hinting at a lack of other options. Yet, his wine selection was commendable, showcasing a thoughtfully curated assortment of French wines.
A quick look at the menus of hip restaurants or the wine lists from both skilled and unskilled wine merchants reveals that Bordeaux wines are noticeably missing, regardless of their price or eco-friendly features. We, the French, have always had a penchant for discarding things that no longer interest us. However, Bordeaux producers and distributors have for years borne a significant responsibility, one that they have been reluctant to acknowledge.
The era spanning 1930 to 1985 was particularly tough for Bordeaux, but thereafter, the industry thrived by focusing on high-markup wines—the types that had the greatest demand on the global market, requiring minimal effort from sellers. In doing so, the Bordeaux wine sector overlooked its obligations to the broader wine community, simply putting a château label on each bottle. The reality of this approach didn’t prevent supermarkets from carrying countless so-called petits châteaux, each priced similarly, leaving customers bewildered by the numerous unknown wines in front of them. The lack of remarkable terroirs and unexciting flavors did not concern the main purchasers: the wines sold well, and what did consumers really know? By the time sales started to decline, it was already too late. The expertise exhibited by the Champenois in crafting exceptional value, private-label supermarket Champagnes was unfortunately absent among their Bordeaux counterparts—this was surprising given the immense brand value associated with the world’s most prestigious wine region.
Nevertheless, the most significant issue facing the Bordeaux wine trade is its underlying “buy low, sell high” mentality—what is, in truth, speculation. Professionals such as restaurateurs, wine merchants, and distributors rely heavily on this speculative approach. But what about private clients? Who thought it wise to market wine futures—purchased and paid for without any prior knowledge of the wine’s quality—as a smart financial decision for individuals? Even those who do eventually sample the wine face the moral dilemma of assuming that an average consumer can predict the quality of a wine based on a brief sample taken from a barrel that has only aged for a few weeks.
It is at this junction that self-styled experts enter the scene—the so-called pundits who thrive on demagoguery. Often lacking formal education, they nevertheless possess an uncanny knack for frequently assigning high scores. Ultimately, it becomes evident that the odds of coming out ahead in this scenario are slim; many wines end up on grocery store shelves priced similarly to what they were sold for during the en primeur sales five years prior. The notion of easy profits proves elusive. Instead of facing the truth about being swayed by greed, parties tend to direct their frustrations at the system and the product.
This situation can lead to one of two outcomes. One option is to cease buying Bordeaux entirely, based on the belief that producers prioritize profit over provenance and wealth over quality and authenticity. Alternatively, one might choose to invest solely in the most prestigious brands—effectively becoming a speculator. In this case, acquiring well-known wines would be akin to purchasing high-yield stocks—not for enjoyment, but rather to resell them, thereby contributing to the speculative bubbles that create inexplicable disparities in pricing among wines that are ultimately of comparable quality. I find it troubling that speculative financing loans are becoming more prevalent. Speculation tarnishes the true essence of agriculture and relegates wine to a mere status symbol for affluent buyers or a desperate tool for social climbers seeking validation.